All language subtitles for Law and order S07E06 - Double Blind

In the criminal justice system

the people are represented by two
separate yet equally important groups,

the police
who investigate crime

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

Superglue. I catch
the punk that did this,

I'm gonna glue my
hand to his face.

Ah, don't assume it was kids.

Divorce, the locksmith's
best friend.

He changes the locks,
she glues them shut.

Mr. Franklin
is a widower.

And I promised I would
fix his AC today.

I'm almost done.

Now what?

Must be the fuse.
Here.

You smell something?
What's that smell?

Look at this.

What is that, blood?

Mr. Franklin?

Mr. Franklin?

Mr. Franklin, are you all right?
It's me, Mr. Couri.

Mother of God...

What the hell hit him,
a howitzer?

Whatever it was, they got it down the alley.
The window here was jimmied.

Well, how long's Mr.
Franklin been like this?

Body's in full rigor.
Say, since about 4:00 this morning.

We're ready to move him.
Okay.

Next of kin's been notified.

There's a message on his
machine from his job.

DeLuca Janitorial.
He was due there two hours ago.

The one day he would've been
happy to show up at work.

Well, somebody went to a lot of
trouble to give him the day off.

The shooter pulled the fuse.

Franklin comes in,
tries the light.

Sets his groceries
down. Boom.

First shot catches
him in the arm.

Second shot, he goes down here.

He gets up, heads toward the bedroom.

Third shot puts him down in the doorway.
He crawls into the room.

End of story.

Well, even at 4:00 in the morning,

somebody must've
heard something.

Goose down. The shooter muffled
the shots with a pillow.

A very small pillow.
Where's the rest of the bird?

Well, you see here how the blood
spatter goes off at right angles?

The shooter used a drop cloth.

CSU found a piece of plastic
sheeting snagged on a floor nail.

Okay, so he rolls up the mess,

superglues the door lock to give
himself a little lead time,

And he's back
out the window. Very neat.

A shooter Martha
Stewart would've loved.

The neighbors heard Mrs.
Molinari and her new beau

going for a world record
at 3:00 in the morning,

but nobody heard the
cannon fire an hour later.

Did any of them say why Mr.
Franklin was killed?

Seven years in
the same building.

A friend to orphans
and small animals.

Not an enemy in the world.

Well, did the friend
that shot him leave prints?

Nope. No fingerprints,
no footprints.

We're thinking of putting out a
sketch of Casper, the Friendly Ghost.

Well, have Profaci pull Mr.
Franklin's financials.

Maybe he had some IOUs.

They had to be big ones.

No one puts this much effort
into collecting a $100 marker.

Hey, Franklin swung a mop
for 10 bucks an hour.

No bookie's gonna front
him any serious money.

You got a better motive?

The 1001 nights of a janitor?

Well, talk to his daughter.
See who he was spending them with.

Did he keep any cash
or jewelry here? No.

Dad deposited his
paycheck every Friday.

And he gave me
mom's pearl necklace

and her engagement
ring after she died.

That was eight years ago.

Do you know...
Was he seeing anybody recently?

I don't think so.

There were people
he felt comfortable around.

Do you know if he was
having any money problems?

No. He wouldn't
talk to me about that.

Did you notice any change
in his spending habits?

Well, for the past
couple of weeks,

he did give me some extra money
to help out with school.

How much extra?

$500.

Where was this
money coming from?

He changed jobs last month.
He said he got a raise.

Franklin put in nine years
at Hudson University.

He took a 5% pay cut
to come work for me.

What, do you have
better company picnics?

They had him cleaning the labs
in the medical department

where they keep
rats for experiments.

He said he was
sick of the smell.

His daughter said that he picked
up some extra money at work.

Well, maybe he found some loose
change under the seat cushions.

He told her he got a raise.
Now, why would he lie?

Any of your customers
ever complain about

missing typewriters
or computers?

Absolutely not.

So you don't mind
if we call them then?

They'll be thrilled you're being
investigated for thievery.

Come on, guys,
nobody was getting hurt.

Let us be the judge of that, huh?

Franklin cleaned
a building on Madison

with a dental practice
on the 11th floor.

Two dentists, brothers,
with bad hair plugs.

Well, after hours, they're movie
producers with bad hair plugs.

Spell it out,
Mr. DeLuca.

Amateur videos. They got racks
of them in the adult stores.

And these dentists were making these
movies right in the examination rooms?

Yeah. Franklin said
they had women

in and out of
there all night long.

Regular-looking women.

Maybe they were patients.

And Franklin was being paid
to look the other way?

300 a week.

I found one slug fragment
big enough to type as a.32.

Fired by what kind of
a.32 is a good question.

A.32 did that?

With a little help from
fulminate of mercury.

Spectro-analysis confirmed the
presence of mercury crystals.

Explosive tips.

I'll call the CIA and ask them

if they counted
their bullets lately.

If you know what you're doing,

anyone can make fulminate of
mercury in their own basement.

How? You break open
a couple of thermometers?

Welcome to the late
20th century, Lennie.

They don't use mercury
in thermometers anymore.

You have to buy it
at a supply house.

Home-made bullets, drop cloth,
no prints, no fibers.

You smell a pro?
I smell an MO.

Let's run it by OCCB.
Thanks.

Victim was a janitor?

You mean, as in a
clean-up guy for the Mob?

No, as in a janitor.

Who's he to rate a
quality hit like this?

You know, we find the shooter,
maybe he'll tell us.

Hmm.

James Poulos,
aka, Jimmy the Pin.

Never heard of him.
You weren't born

when he was doing
his best work.

Uh, see, one conviction, 1956.
Twelve-year stretch in Attica.

We'll say hello for you.

Thanks, Manny.

Listen, Jimmy,
somebody copped your MO

down in the Village
a few days ago.

The whole thing
was by the numbers,

right down to
the fuse box gimmick.

No kidding?
Well, you're never gonna find him.

They found you. 1956.

One time, junior.

Because some bum ratted me out.

But it was never on the
forensic evidence. Never.

That hit in the Village?

For 12.95, any dope
could have done it. Here.

"The Assassin's Technical Manual.
Free Nation Publications."

Those nuts who run
around the woods

playing Rambo,
they printed that.

They interviewed you?
Nah.

They didn't even
get my permission.

And they sure as hell
ain't paying my royalties.

We're in our
seventh printing.

It's a mail-order
success story.

How do you measure success,
in confirmed kills?

Read the disclaimer.

It's for informational and
entertainment purposes only.

Well, for our
informational purposes,

we'd like a list of the
people who order this trash.

Obviously, you're unfamiliar with
one of our other publications.

"A Citizen's Guide to
Constitutional Freedoms."

Look, we're asking
for a mailing list,

not the name of
a confidential source.

I spilled patriot blood in
defense of the First Amendment.

I'm not about to surrender
it to some Jose-come-lately.

He'll argue that keeping his mailing
list confidential is essential

to the exercise of his
First Amendment rights.

And a judge will buy that?

You want to spend six months
in court to find out?

I'd like to know before the
killer starts drawing a pension.

He followed the instructions in
here step-by-step. Chapter 6.

There's even a checklist.

The publisher provided the means
for him to commit a felony.

Criminal facilitation?
I don't think so.

I'd like to run with it.

If that's what you want
to do, God bless you.

What does he know?

You're going to trot out this
crap in front of a grand jury?

Just as soon as they
get back from lunch.

I might even toss in
hindering prosecution.

This is a joke.

As your lawyer knows, I can get this
pencil indicted if I'm in the mood.

You can't
make it stick.

Any judge will see
it for what it is,

an end-run around
the First Amendment.

And you'll spend every dime of
your client's money to prove it.

Freedom of the press
isn't free, Mr. Bailey.

But turning over your mailing
list won't cost you a cent.

I can't believe this.
It's extortion.

It's leverage.

Lunchtime's over.

Go ahead. Take me to court.

I welcome the chance to
kick some government butt.

You don't want this
fight, Mr. Bailey.

I'll have every city,
state and federal agency

from the postal
inspector to the IRS

crawling up your
digestive track.

Just hold on a second.

You'll have the list on your
desk first thing in the morning.

All these people
ordered the book?

If you see one of my
ex's in there, let me know.

Oh, look, somebody in
Quantico ordered six copies.

Wonder who that is.

Great. My tax
dollars at work.

Greg Franklin worked
for Hudson University?

Yeah. He quit a month ago.

Well, somebody there bought
the book three weeks ago.

Who's that?

Greg Franklin.

I don't remember a package
coming here for Greg.

Anyway, the mailroom knows he
doesn't work here anymore.

Hey, why would he have a book
sent to him after he quit?

Yeah, we asked ourselves
the same thing.

Figure maybe it was
one of his old buddies.

The same one who put
three bullets into him.

I heard he was murdered.

But, look, Greg got along with
everybody who worked here.

Got along so well, he quit.

He got tired of
the graveyard shift.

Yeah, started working nights
on his new job for less money.

Mr. Krasny, isn't it possible that
Greg left for some other reason?

Somebody accused him
of stealing drugs

from the Department of Psychiatry.
Tranquilizers.

A janitor's always
a good suspect.

Greg worked here nine years without a problem.
I didn't believe it.

Well, what did
Greg say about it?

He said that someone was out to get him.
He didn't know who.

Security leaned on him
hard, so he just quit.

Excuse me.

Well, Franklin was right,
somebody was out to get him.

Well, he got paid not to
notice porno was being filmed.

Maybe he took money not to
notice drugs were being stolen.

That would explain why he kept his
mouth shut when he was suspected.

Maybe he asked for more
money to keep it shut.

Somebody got pissed.
Yeah.

Somebody who was there when that
book showed up at the mailroom.

Mail addressed to former
employees goes in that bin.

If we have a forwarding
address, we forward it.

If not, it gets
returned to the sender.

Well, how long does
the mail stay in there?

This isn't the US Post Office.

Is that good or bad?

Turnaround time's
about three days.

Who has access to the bin?

Everyone that works here.

Fifty or 60 people, counting full-time
employees and students on part-time.

Okay, we're gonna need
a list of those names, okay?

Sure.

Sixty doors to knock on, Rey.

I'll tell you what, I'll take the
coed dorms, you take the rest.

How many mailmen know
what a fulminate is?

One.

The chemistry major.

A first-year student
could do it.

If he had the ingredients?
Mmm-hmm.

Mercury nitrate,
nitric acid and ethanol.

It's all here under lock and key.
And strictly rationed.

You wouldn't
believe our budget.

So if one of your students was
cooking up a batch of this stuff,

who would know about it?
Unless you had a cold, you'd know.

You see, during
the heating process,

fulminate of mercury
makes a god-awful stink.

This is a list of students who
work in the campus mailroom.

Any of them yours?

Yes, this one.
Ms. Nguyen.

Thank you.

Wednesday night?
I was with my sister.

She came down
from MIT to visit.

Why do you want to know?

Well, last Wednesday, a janitor
who used to work here was shot.

We think by somebody who
knows their way around

the campus mailroom
and a chemistry lab.

I'm two for two.
But I didn't shoot anybody.

Why chemistry?

Well, the killer used bullets that
were tipped with fulminate of mercury.

And he works in the mailroom?

It's a possibility.
You know somebody?

I'm not sure.
I don't want to get him in trouble.

Sweetheart, if he didn't do
it, he's not in any trouble.

This boy I work with, Alan.
He usually keeps to himself.

He asked me out to a movie a few weeks ago.
He wouldn't stop talking.

I couldn't follow
what he was saying,

but he kept asking about reagent
catalytic salts of mercury.

He said it was for a class in
ethics and contemporary history.

I didn't get the connection.

You give us his name,
we'll ask him.

Alan Sawyer.
He's a history major.

He works in the mailroom
Tuesday afternoons.

Alan? Alan Sawyer?

I'm Detective Curtis.
This is my partner, Detective Briscoe.

We'd like to talk
to you a minute.

About what?

Fulminate of mercury.
You familiar with it?

You must've heard
about my project.

That's right, you
were in the mailroom.

Your crystal ball
tell you that?

Nah, I went there to get
my paycheck during lunch.

Then you must've
talked to Little Orchid?

Little Orchid? Who's she?
A friend of Pocahontas?

She's a chemistry whiz.
Little Orchid's her name in Vietnamese.

She told you about my project.
Yeah.

Now, you can tell us about it.

Minamata. It's this
Japanese fishing village.

About 40 years ago,
a paper mill dumped

600 tons of mercury
into the bay there.

People died, babies were
born with birth defects.

That's horrible.
So what's your project about?

I'm writing a history
paper for class.

It's about the evolution of corporate
responses to environmental disasters.

I got the idea from my dad.
He's a corporate lawyer.

Hmm. Well, how'd you go from
poisoned fish to mercury explosives?

I've been curious about
mercury for a while.

Little Orchid wasn't paying
attention to me, anyway.

She's hot for Brad Pitt.

Okay?

Oh, one more thing.

Where were you Wednesday night?

In my dorm room,
cramming for a mid-term.

It was nice
talking to you guys.

My dad's a corporate lawyer,
your witness is confused,

I have a fine alibi...

And an excuse for everything.

Let's start with the alibi.

I saw him in the bathroom
a couple of times.

Besides that, his door was closed.
He had the music going.

What about after midnight?

His door was closed.
He had the music going.

Believe me, I'd love to
help you lock this guy up.

Oh, why is that?
You don't like his music?

I don't like him.
The guy's a pig.

Let me ask you something. You ever notice
any unusual smells coming from his room?

Unusual? The guy's
got a hotplate in there.

I don't know what he's been cooking
lately, but it smells like roadkill.

Did you ever hear him
talk about a janitor

that worked in the
Department of Psychiatry?

A guy named Greg Franklin?
No.

Why? Was he Sawyer's
mystery lover?

Why would you say that?

Sawyer's over there
every night around 7:00.

He says he gets paid to do
scut work in the research lab,

but you never know.

I placed an ad in the campus newspaper.
Alan answered.

I pay him $100 a week to collate data.
On what?

We research new
psychotropic drugs

using animals and
humans as subjects.

So these rats are all on drugs?
Yes.

The same kind of drugs that
were stolen last month?

No, no. Those
were tranquilizers.

Is Alan in some
kind of trouble?

Well, the janitor who used to clean the
building was killed a few days ago.

Greg? Oh, my God.

And you suspect Alan?

You're the psychiatrist, Dr.
Varick. Is Alan the type?

Well, anyone is
the type, Detective.

I don't have to tell you that.

Well, if Alan had some
kind of a beef with Greg,

it would narrow things down.

Not that I know of.

I'm sorry I can't
be more helpful.

We faxed his photo to every
chemical supply house in the area.

Nobody called back to say
that he was in their store.

Campus security's letting CSU

and the bomb squad search the
common areas of Sawyer's dorm.

We figured if he made
the stuff in his room,

they might find gas
residue in the hallway.

You talk to a judge about a
search warrant for his room?

Yeah, Judge Serena. She wasn't too
impressed with our coincidences.

Yeah. Our profile of someone
with knowledge of explosives

and someone who had access to the
mailroom and Psychiatry Department

wasn't specific enough.

Did you tell her about
the smell from his room?

Oh, you'll be glad to
know that " Unidentified

"transient odors
aren't probable cause."

Well, bring Alan in for a chat.

See what he thinks
about our coincidences.

I've never seen this book.
Is it any good?

Oh, yeah.
It's a real page-turner.

So you in the mailroom,
coincidence number one.

Little Orchid,
coincidence number two.

I explained that.
Yeah, right, the contaminated fish.

Number three,
you work in the same lab

that Franklin was cleaning up.

That doesn't count.

I know two people in the
mailroom from pre-med.

They take classes in
that same building.

Number four,
the stench in your room.

That one's easy.

I tried making Hom yu.
It's this Chinese pork dish.

It really stinks the place up.

You got it all
covered, don't you?

Here, check my fingerprints.

You'll see that I wasn't
in that guy's apartment.

Give me a break.
You wore gloves, Alan.

You know we didn't
find any prints.

What about my hair?
If I was there as long as you say,

you would've found
some of my hair.

Hey, we know
about the drop cloth

and the lights and the pillow.

You followed every damn
instruction in that book!

So, I'm guilty because
you don't have any evidence?

Lori Franklin is here.

Ms. Franklin.

Is that him?

Yes. Now take your time.

His name is Alan Sawyer.

No, I never heard
Dad talk about him.

No, I never saw him.

Okay. Thanks for coming in.

CSU finished
their search of the dorm.

No fulminate of
mercury residue.

But look what
they found missing.

The mercury-filled
bubbles that make

the thermostats in
his dorm go on and off.

You know, it's time
I called my parents.

No, it's time we
put you under arrest

for the murder
of Greg Franklin.

Stand up. You have the
right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be
used against you in a court of law.

You have the right
to an attorney.

If you cannot afford one, one
will be appointed to you.

You understand that?

Yes.

But I'd really like
to talk to my parents.

No, first, we're
gonna talk about

where you got the mercury
for your bullets.

Hey, you know that really had
us going, Alan. Till now.

The thermostats in your dorm.
They're missing the mercury switches.

Coincidence number five.
And your prints are on those switches.

Okay.

I put on a shower
cap and plastic gloves.

I put down the drop cloth and I unscrewed
the fuse and I waited for him.

As soon as the door
closed, I shot him.

Why'd you do it, Alan?

Did it have something to
do with the stolen drugs?

I stole those so they'd
blame him and fire him.

Why? What did Franklin
ever do to you?

He was a Knight Templar.

He was 600 years old.

They told me he was
trying to kill me.

Who said that?

King Philip and Pope Clement.

They told me to shoot him
and they told me how.

I still can't believe the judge
turned us down for bail.

Whatever perfume you were wearing, Ms.
Ross, I should start wearing too.

Anyway, I talked to Alan, and
we're changing our plea.

You finally got around
to reading his confession?

Please, I was halfway to the Garden
last night when I caught this case.

We're pleading not guilty
by reason of mental disease.

I beg your pardon?
The kid hears voices.

Didn't you read his statement?

Every word.

Including how he carefully planned
and executed a cold-blooded murder.

I didn't say he was stupid.
He's a diagnosed schizophrenic.

Diagnosed by whom?

Dr. Christian Varick.

Chief of psychiatric research
at Hudson University.

Alan's been under his care
for the last four months.

The police talked to Varick.
He never said he was treating Alan.

I doubt he forgot.

Maybe your detectives
forgot he told them.

I am paying Alan $100 a week as
a test subject in a drug study.

It would've been nice to know
that before we arrested him.

My hands were tied by the
doctor-patient privilege.

You understand my dilemma.

His lawyer claims
he can't appreciate

the consequences
of his actions.

That might've been
true four months ago.

He was paranoid, he heard voices,
he had violent fantasies

concerning the Crusades
and the medieval knights.

And now?

According to my research
assistant's evaluations,

he is asymptomatic.

No more voices?
That's right.

As long as he keeps
taking his medication.

Which is what?

Well, half the subjects in my
study are taking fluphenazine.

The other half are on T489.
It's an experimental drug.

I broke Alan's double-blind
coding last night

to see which group he was in.

He's been taking T489.

It's had a remarkable effect.

So Pope Clement
and King Philip?

I don't know why Alan
killed Mr. Franklin,

but it had nothing to
do with his disease.

This is pretty much what
Varick told me over the phone.

You want to change your plea back
to plain vanilla not guilty?

We're not conceding anything.

Motion to
suppress the confession?

Plan B.

Twice during his interrogation,

my client asked to
speak to his parents.

Twice, the police refused.

His client
is not a minor.

Asking for mom and
dad is not the same

as invoking
the right to counsel.

It is if dad's an attorney.

A corporate attorney
from Baltimore.

Miranda doesn't say
that a defendant can

only ask for New York
criminal lawyers.

The police knew his
father was an attorney?

He told them so in
an earlier interview.

He said it
in passing.

Your Honor, if he wanted to speak
to his father as an attorney,

he should've said so when
he was read his rights.

There are no magic
words, Mr. McCoy.

Your officers should've erred
on the side of caution.

Mr. Sawyer was
denied counsel.

I'm gonna suppress
his confession.

Is there any other evidence
that might sustain the charges?

We have his fingerprints
on the broken thermostats...

Along with the prints of
a dozen other individuals.

I don't see legal
sufficiency here, Mr. McCoy.

I'm dismissing the charges
and releasing Mr. Sawyer.

He shoots my father three
times, he confesses,

and now he gets to go home?

What about my father's rights?

Doesn't anybody
care about that?

We do.

And we have every intention of
pursuing the case against Alan Sawyer.

The police do
anything right?

They searched everywhere Sawyer
could've hidden evidence.

I wish I could tell
you to take a plea.

Call Briscoe and Curtis.
Give them the bad news.

This is interesting.

I asked the Baltimore
state's attorney

to run Sawyer's
parents for a gun permit.

His father
owns a Ruger.32.

I'll call Amtrak.

We have nothing to tell you, Ms. Ross.
We don't know where the gun is.

As a lawyer, you
know it's the law

to report a lost
or stolen weapon.

I'm familiar with the law.

Since no report was made,
the gun should still be here.

Fred, please.
This isn't helping him.

When we heard that
Alan was arrested,

we looked for the gun
and it wasn't here.

We're not saying
that Alan took it.

When was
Alan last here?

Our son is sick.
He's not responsible for his actions.

That's not what
Dr. Varick says.

Well, he's wrong.

Alan spent the night here
about a month ago.

In the morning, I found him huddled
in the corner of his room,

naked and crying.

He said the voices were telling
him to do terrible things.

We'd never seen him this bad.

We thought the drugs
had him under control.

Did you call Dr. Varick?

Well, of course.

He said it was
an anxiety attack.

Told us to put him on the
train back to New York.

Have you spoken to Alan since?
No.

We tried to visit him in jail.

He won't see us.

He's scared.
He knows that he needs help.

You want to have him
committed, Ms. Ross?

Two days ago, you
wanted him in prison.

Two days ago, I hadn't
spoken to his parents.

And where did they get
their medical degree?

Maybe they're wrong.
Maybe Varick is.

We can file for a
Section 934-A admission

and let the doctors at
Bellevue make the call.

It might keep him off the streets
for at least a couple of months.

The parents will
swear out an affidavit?

Already done.

Pick him up.
We might not need to.

His parents think
there's a chance

he might volunteer
to commit himself.

My parents think
this is a good idea?

Yes, they do.

They're very
concerned about you.

I feel...
I feel awful about that dead man.

He didn't...
Alan, we're not here to discuss that.

If you agree to commit yourself,
Alan, you'll get help.

Isn't that what you want?

Yeah, yeah. I...

Alan...

I know. I'm not gonna say
anything about that.

I...

I just... I don't know
what's happened to me.

I mean, I wasn't always...
I just don't understand it.

All right,
Alan, that's enough.

Mr. McCoy just
wants to lock you up

until he can charge
you with murder again.

I want him where he won't
hurt himself or anyone else.

The problem is you
want him in the system.

My job is to keep him out.
If he needs help, he'll get it.

During my examination, Mr.
Sawyer experienced auditory hallucinations.

He described violent fantasies,

and he expressed
ideas of reference.

In your opinion, does he pose a
danger to himself or others?

Yes, he does.

Thank you.

Doctor, how much time did you
spend with Alan before concluding

he's a menace to society?

Uh, forty-five minutes.

Thank you for stopping by today.
No more questions.

I have a BS in chemistry from
Harvard, an MD and a PhD from Yale.

I did my residency in psychiatry at
Columbia, and for the last 10 years,

I've been conducting
clinical studies

in the treatment
of schizophrenia.

And Alan was a subject
in one of these studies?

Yes. For the past
four months,

he was under my care
and receiving drug therapy.

An experimental drug?

Yes. T489.

Which has effectively
controlled his symptoms.

Your Honor, we offer into
evidence the weekly evaluations

prepared by Dr. Varick
and his staff.

So entered.

Doctor, in your expert opinion,

does Alan pose a danger
to himself or to others?

As long as he is
properly medicated,

there is no reason
to commit him.

Properly medicated.

Does that mean if
Alan is released today,

you'll take him back into your
study and give him T489 again?

No. His value as a test
subject has been compromised.

I see.

Alan's parents and two
respected psychiatrists agree

that Alan hears voices.

He's erratic and
possibly violent.

How do you explain that?

Your respected psychiatrists spent a
total of an hour-and-a-half with Alan.

And his parents are
parents, not doctors.

Isn't it possible
that you made a mistake?

It's not likely.

That arrogant bastard.

Obviously, arrogance goes a
long way with Judge Steinman.

She and Varick must be the only
two people in that building

that don't think Alan
should be committed.

I don't understand
what Varick's thinking.

That makes two of us.
I looked at Alan's evaluations.

The day after his so-called anxiety
attack, he was given perfect scores.

Well, maybe his anxiety passed.

But why isn't
there a mention of it?

You'd think they'd
note it as a possible

side effect of
an experimental drug.

Varick's fudging
his evaluations?

Or his research assistant is.
Her signature's on every one.

Then why didn't she testify?

Ask Alan's lawyer.
It was his call.

But you're the one who
evaluated him, Ms. Perry.

But Dr. Varick's the one with the
alphabet soup after his name.

Believe me, he makes a
better witness than I do.

Someone who's never
examined Alan?

Not true.

He conducted the initial
interview, he did the diagnosis,

and he met with
Alan every month.

And in between, he relied
on your evaluations.

Well, we've worked together six years.
He trusts my judgment.

Then why isn't there a record
of Alan's anxiety attack?

I discussed
it with Dr. Varick.

He said it was unrelated to his
condition and his medication.

What was it related to, Ms.
Perry, the phases of the moon?

His parents said he
was hearing voices.

Parents say and do a lot
of things, Ms. Ross.

We have to rely on
our own observations.

Hey. Absolut soda, please.

Excuse us, Mike.

Sure.

Will I need a refill?

You're buying this round
and the next. Yeah?

Perry boasted how effective
Varick was on the stand.

She'd know.
She's seen him in action.

"Filed in Philadelphia
County, 1991.

"The estate of Cathy Simon
v. Dr. Christian Varick."

Varick conducted drug studies at
Darby University from 1990 to 1993.

Cathy Simon was a senior there.

She was one of his guinea pigs?

Yes.

According to the complaint,

Cathy was diagnosed as suffering
schizoaffective disorder.

The first month she was in
Varick's study, dramatic results.

Then her mood swings returned.

Varick told her
parents to be patient.

Let me guess, she got worse.

Her parents begged Varick
to change her medication.

He stopped returning
their calls.

Three weeks later, Cathy Simon
jumped off the Tacony Bridge.

Son of a bitch.

A manic-depressive commits suicide.
Somebody call Ripley's.

What's unbelievable, Adam,

is Varick knew something
was wrong and ignored it.

Well, 12 jurors in Philadelphia
didn't see it that way.

And what does any of this have
to do with the Sawyer kid?

His evaluations were off.
He had a relapse and Varick missed it.

Uh-huh.

"I'm sorry. I goofed.
Won't do it again."

Drug company funding his research
wouldn't be thrilled to hear that.

Why? Mistakes happen.

Once is a mistake, twice...

Twice, what?

If it was an honest mistake,

at this point, he wouldn't be
paying much attention to Sawyer.

But he puts his
reputation on the line

for a man who
committed a murder.

My hunch is something
else is going on.

Well, we know what he told us.

What'd he tell
the drug company?

We don't give million-dollar
grants to people

we don't trust to
test our product.

You write a check, then what?

You wait for Dr. Varick
to mail you his results?

Of course not.
We have regular audits.

And I meet with Dr.
Varick every month to review his data.

Did you discuss a patient
named Alan Sawyer?

Test subjects
are assigned numbers.

Patient number 12.

I want to make our
company's position clear.

Dr. Varick told us he
followed strict protocols.

All potential test subjects
were given physical exams,

neuro-psychological workups,
including PET scans.

We relied on
Dr. Varick completely.

Save that for your press release.
Now, patient number 12.

He showed rapid improvement in
the first weeks of the study.

Dr. Varick was
very enthusiastic.

Sounds like he already knew Alan
was on the experimental drug.

Wasn't this
a double-blind study?

It's possible
Dr. Varick broke

the double-blind code
earlier than he should,

but the results
were so remarkable.

According to Varick.

You're aware the data were collected
by his research assistant?

Of course.

Jill Perry is
eminently qualified.

In fact, we're considering a
grant proposal she submitted.

She's branching out on her own?
Yes.

Soon as the T489
study is complete,

she's taking a position
at Texas Union College.

I'm on a first-name basis with the
Dallas County D.A., Ms. Perry.

You might get away from
Varick, but not from me.

I'm not running from anybody.
Dr. Varick knows I'm leaving.

He even helped me fill out
the grant application.

What?
What's the matter?

Don't you know when
you're being set up?

You signed those evaluations.
He testified he relied on your judgment.

When it hits the fan, he'll duck
and let you take it in the face.

He wouldn't do that.
We both stand behind our work.

With his prestige on the line?

Lt'll be your word against his.

And as you pointed out,

he makes a much better
witness than you do.

Who knows, he might
even convince us.

Two months ago, I told
him Alan was relapsing.

He examined him. He said I was wrong.
Alan was fine.

Was he?
No.

All of his symptoms returned.
The voices, visual hallucinations, the works.

But Dr. Varick kept
him on the T489

and he told me to keep
his evaluations high.

Did he tell you why?

He'd convinced the drug company
Alan was the poster boy for T489.

They were happy and he
wanted to keep them happy.

And keep the grant money flowing.
Hmm.

I felt so sorry for Alan.
He knew the drug wasn't working.

He was so helpless
and so scared.

He thought everyone
was out to get him.

Did he threaten to hurt anyone?

Yes.

He talked about Greg Franklin.

He said he had
orders to kill him.

I told Dr. Varick, but he
didn't think Alan was serious.

What about you?

I just crossed my fingers.

I just talked to Alan's lawyer.

I told him what Jill Perry said.
We have a deal?

Alan goes to criminal
detention at Bellevue.

He doesn't get out until two
doctors of our choosing say so.

Good. Next case.

People v. Christian Varick.

Yeah.
On what charge, perjury?

A violent schizophrenic
threatened to kill Greg Franklin.

Varick knew and did nothing.

He recklessly caused
Greg Franklin's death.

Man two.

I like it.
Pick him up.

The statute's clear, Your Honor.
The defendant has to cause the death.

By being aware of

and consciously disregarding a
substantial and unjustifiable risk.

That's very clear.

There's nothing
reckless here, Jack.

At worst, it's an
error in judgment.

His work is as
much art as science.

It's mostly hubris.

He could've hospitalized Alan,

changed his medication,
warned Greg Franklin.

Instead, he told his research
assistant to falsify records.

I had legitimate reasons for keeping
Alan on the experimental drug.

I was convinced
he'd bounce back.

Your Honor, there are
other remedies available.

The People are trying to
criminalize medical malpractice.

Lawsuits are fine
for Alan Sawyer

and for Greg Franklin's family.

The People are entitled to their
own remedy in this court.

Agreed.
Your Honor,

research is about taking risks.

If you let them
put me on trial,

you will be sending a chill through
the entire scientific community.

It's a risk I'm
willing to take.

Mr. McCoy, is there
any way to work this out?

He pleads to criminally
negligent homicide,

he serves three years,
he gives up his license.

He pleads misdemeanor assault for
withholding care from Mr. Sawyer.

One-year probation.
He keeps his license.

That's unacceptable.

Then I guess I'll
see you all in court.

People's 27.
Alan's evaluations.

Take it to projects
and have it blown up 200%.

200%. How about 500%?

You don't want the jury
to have to squint.

200.

Get used to working
on a budget. Next.

Speaking of...
Varick's research budget. Relevant?

Let me see Alan's file.

Budget line item eight, 32 PET
scans ordered at $1500 a pop.

That's two for every
patient in Varick's study.

No record of any scan here.

Check the summaries
of the other patient files.

No PET scans for any of them.

Either they're missing or they were
never done in the first place.

Talk to Alan.

I think about him, you know.

I see his face.

I can't believe
I did that to someone.

You weren't responsible, Alan.

I'm taking new drugs now.
I don't hear the voices as much.

Do you remember getting a brain scan for Dr.
Varick's study?

A PET scan?
Yeah, sure.

When you first signed
up for the study?

No, later, after the drug started wearing off.
Varick went with me.

Do you remember where you went?

Somewhere on the West Side.

Sawyer, Alan.

This is just a billing receipt.

Don't you have
a copy of the scan?

That's stored in the computer.
Do you mind?

No.

We did a coronal
section of the brain

from the top of the skull
down to the brain stem.

You said this kid was
diagnosed as schizophrenic?

That's right.

Well, this tells me somebody
didn't do their homework.

Sit down.

What's going on, Jack?
This is supposed to be a plea conference.

We'll get to that just as
soon as you take a seat.

We uncovered some new evidence

we just couldn't
wait to tell you about.

This is a PET scan
of Alan's brain.

Which your client ordered
three months into the study.

The same week Jill Perry told
him Alan was in relapse.

Doctor, why don't you tell
us what that red area means?

Come on, Doctor.

I want to hear it from you.

It means that I'm going to die.

I'm not schizophrenic.
I have a tumor.

That's why I heard the voices.

That's why I've
been acting like this.

Alan has a brain tumor, which at
one point may have been operable.

But your client
mistook its effects

for the symptoms
of schizophrenia.

That's why PET scans
are routinely ordered

at the beginning of any research
study into schizophrenia.

But you never ordered them
for any of your patients.

There was a reason for that.

The company wanted to get to
the FDA as soon as possible.

They gave me six months...
Chris, please...

to do the test.
Please...

It took one month to
find the test subjects.

There wasn't time
to do the scans.

But you found the time

when Alan stopped responding
to the medication.

That's when you
found the tumor,

but you never did
nothing about it. Why?

You didn't want anyone to know you
were a hack, isn't that right?

All right, come on,
Jack. That's enough.

You bullied your
research assistant,

you defrauded the drug company,

you allowed
a man to be murdered.

You sentenced this boy to death

just to cover up
for your incompetence.

I never...

Chris, for God's
sakes, shut up.

Do you want to know how much
longer they say I have?

A year, maybe two.

You bastard.

You let me kill him.

And now, you've killed me.

When the time comes,

I'm adding another count
to the indictment.

Murder two.
Depraved indifference.

I'm sure Varick's still convinced
of his own competence.

Fact is, he's just an extreme
example of what most of us do.

Everyone cuts corners, Jack.

Maybe where you come from.

I'll read your briefs more
carefully in the future.

What?

I was just wondering if there's
a motorcycle mechanic out there

keeping his fingers crossed.